


Folie à deux

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2017) [15]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge 2017, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10853310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Slight AU to AC IV, in that Duncan lives longer and he and Edward are stuck on the island longer. Inevitably Edward feels inclined to misbehave.





	Folie à deux

Walpole’s a real piece of work.  
  
They’ve been stuck on this rock for a week and the man has gone out of his way to use as little of the King’s English as humanly possible: Mostly it’s a grunt of affirmation, or a jerk of the head for ‘no’, or a jerky shrug for ‘how the fuck should I know, figure it out for yourself’.  
  
Despite this, he’s not the worst company Edward’s ever had.  
  
For instance, he has a nice dick.  
  
It takes a good five minutes for Walpole to notice that he has an audience. He’s next to a stream, got half his (bizarre and unnecessary, given that this is the bloody Caribbean) clothing off, has his breeches down around his ankles and he’s leaning against a rock as he jacks off, jerking his dick with short, sharp movements.  
  
And it is a nice dick, it really is, the kind Edward might have been inclined to play with if said dick were not currently attached to a much larger, annoying dick.  
  
When Walpole realizes he’s being watched, he nearly jumps into the water, and Edward can laugh at him safely because the idiot threw his gun away after it failed him on the beach (Edward had proceeded to hide it, just in case).  
  
“The _fuck_ are you doing?” Walpole snarls, but- tellingly, as far as Edward’s concerned- does not rush to cover himself or pull his breeches back up. “I know you’re a pirate, but do you lack _all_ sense of decency?”  
  
“Most of it, yes,” Edward says with a sweet smile. “Goodness, Sneaksby, that’s the most you’ve said all week! Does a good rub loosen your lips?”  
  
Walpole looks more disgusted than shocked, and that’s disappointing, because Edward was hoping to make a joke about him being a very proper young lady and finding him some smelling-salts, but oh well. “You’re disgusting. _And stop looking at it!_ ”  
  
“You’re not really making an attempt to hide it, Sneaksby. And while I, personally, have met alligators with more charming personalities than yours, I must say, you have quite the cock there. Mind if I-”  
  
“ _Don’t_ ,” Walpole hisses, “Finish that sentence. I’ll cut you in half, I swear to Christ.”  
  
“Well, I mean, that’s rather what I was hoping you’d consent to doing, because that thing _does_ look like it could cut a man in half.”  
  
“Pervert!” Walpole barks.  
  
“It’s pronounced ‘pirate’. And don’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it’d be like to stick that thing in a man.”  
  
“Are you _volunteering_ , then?”  
  
Ah, there we are: The justification. Men like Walpole always need a challenge, a _reason_ to actually go through with whatever it is they’re vehemently denying that they want to do. The high-and-mighty of society are just as curious as the lowlifes of Edward’s standing, but they’ve naught the balls to actually _do_ anything about it unless someone dares them to.  
  
Because then it’s not their fault. Not _completely_ , anyway.  
  
“Thought I’d made my interest perfectly clear, mate!”  
  
And that’s how it goes from Walpole rubbing one out all by his lonesome to him pounding his cock into Edward’s ass, one hand shoving the pirate’s head into the sand and grass below.  
  
Walpole grunts and growls as he thrusts and if Edward had the breath for it, he might have warned the man that he’s sounding far too much like a jaguar and one might come lurking around looking to mate with him if he’s not careful.  
  
As it is, there’s a bit of sand in his mouth and Walpole is quite effectively fucking the words right out of him, so Edward says nothing, just clumsily grasps as his own cock as best he can and strokes along to the thrusting.  
  
There’s something rather mad about it, having rough, half-dressed sex in stark daylight out in the open, even if there’s no one there to stumble across them. But then, men did mad things when they were away from home and no one was around to say anything about what they did. Freedom is intoxicating.  
  
If it takes a while for them to build a sufficient boat, or steal another, and they’re stuck on this island a while longer with nothing to do but this…  
  
Edward doesn’t mind it that much at all.  
  
-End


End file.
